


i walk the fault line

by silentghosts



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentghosts/pseuds/silentghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shitty wasn't in the practice of telling himself that he couldn't kiss people, but this was his best friend and it was an entirely different matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i walk the fault line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misandrywitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misandrywitch/gifts).



> For Sarah, who deserves far more Jack/Shitty than I could ever possibly write, I hope this makes you smile just a little bit.
> 
> Also as always thanks to Kim, who held my hand from the first spark to the final edit and to Idril who beat it into shape after I wrote half of it in one sitting and a promptly fell asleep. 
> 
> Title is from Saving Grace by The Maine which upon hearing for the first time in many years made me to cry during a long car drive home about Shitty B. Knight being exactly what Jack Zimmermann needed.

 

_May 13th 2012_

  
  
Shitty was sprawled across Jack's bed, his back pressed against the wall as his toes dangled off the edge. Jack's head resting against his thigh as the afternoon sunlight poured through the open window, illuminating the dust particles stirred up from moving earlier that day. Right now Shitty wasn’t sure if he had ever been more attracted to him, his hair tickling the inside of Shitty’s legs, face flushed from the heat of the day, comfortable in a way that Shitty barely saw outside of the rink as he rambled about his plans for the summer.  
  
Jack's hands waved above his head, painting a picture of Montreal in June, his tongue darting to wet his lips as an increasing number of French syllables fell from his mouth. Stories of his childhood flowing thick and fast, of days spent playing ball hockey with his family in the summers between cups, of warm Canadian sunshine and days spent by the lake. All the while, Shitty couldn't help but stare at his lips, bitten and chapped as they were, and wonder what it would be like to just kiss them. As Jack trailed off, the pair fell into a peaceful silence, just the sound of the tree outside the window rustling, their breathing and Shitty’s incessant thoughts about what it would be like to kiss Jack filling the silence. What would it feel like to just lean forward and just press their lips together? Shitty sometimes thought that if he were to try, Jack might just let him.  
  
“I’m glad you're my best friend,” Jack spoke softly, tilting his head further back into the sun. His eyes locked with Shitty’s as a lazy grin spread across his face before his eyes blinked shut. Warmth bloomed through Shitty’s chest, yet as quickly as it spread to the tips of his fingers, it was replaced by white hot shame. The thoughts he had been thinking only moments before retreated back into the far reaches of his brain. Shitty didn’t know the whole story about why Jack never made the draft. He didn’t think it was his place to ask, yet it was still obvious that being his friend was the best thing that Shitty could offer him, far better than a half-baked hookup plan that would inevitably have ended in tears.  
  
Allowing himself one final moment of wishful thinking, he ran his spare hand through Jack's hair, ruffling it for just a moment before launching himself forward, sending them both sprawling across the empty dorm room floor. His muffled reply of _you too, asshole_ lost in the half-hearted protesting cries and laughter as they tumbled together towards the wall, eventually coming to rest side by side in the lone patch of sunlight that remained on the carpet.  
  
“You know I mean it, right? You’re my best friend, too-” Shitty trailed off, staring intently at the patch of what could be mold on the ceiling as he felt Jack shift beside him, Jack’s arm trapped underneath his body, digging sharply in his back.  
  
“I know, it's just... A lot can happen during one summer. A lot can happen in thirty-four days. A lot can happen in just one-” Jack mumbled, his fingers tapping anxiously against Shitty’s spine.  
  
Rolling over, Shitty tucked himself further into Jack's arms, coming to rest with his chin propped up against Jack shoulder. His eyes darted against his will back to Jack's lips, the words 34 days ringing in his head proving why he couldn’t have it. Because Jack made off-handed comments that made it seem like he was going to disappear in a puff of smoke, made 34 days seem like an eternity, made 24 hours seem like a life-changing amount of time. Keeping Jack safe from the world was always Shitty’s goal, but there wasn’t much he could do to keep Jack safe from himself except reassure him that when the snow started to fall again, he would still be here, that he wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
“I’ll be back at the end of summer, and we’re living next to each other now, so good luck trying to escape me now, Cap,” he laughed, smacking a wet kiss to his forehead before rolling back into his own space, back to where he couldn’t do anything stupid.

 

_January 5th 2013_

  
  
  
Standing in the snow, moonlight still gleaming off the pond, Shitty took the moment to question what the fuck he was doing here, outside at asscrack o’clock in the morning, when a shower of snow spray hit him in the face. An exuberant bubble of laughter erupted in front of him, followed by the sound of skates moving away as he hurried to wipe the frozen ice shards from his eyes.  
  
“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m still friends with you.” Shitty whined as he pushed forward, propelling himself over to where Jack was skating loops on the far side of the ice. “What type of dickbag wakes their best friend up at 3 fucking am because the pond is finally fucking frozen,” he muttered, hip checking Jack on the way past. Served him right for being a hockey nerd that wakes other people up at ungodly hours to go skating Shitty though as he came to a stop at the edge of the pond, brushing a wayward snowflakes from his eyes.  
  
As another light giggle escaped Jack's mouth, Shitty found himself gazing backwards at him. Watching as Jack struggled to keep his balance for a second, practically bent over with laughter, pure unadulterated joy written all over his face. Shitty took a moment to take him in, his hair slightly shorter than it was before break yet still long enough that he was currently pushing it out of his eyes, his cheeks flushed red from the cold and a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. Before he flung himself towards Shitty, tackling him into the nearest snowbank and pinning him to the ground.  
  
With Jack suddenly above him, snowflakes in his hair and his eyes lit up, Shitty could kiss him. He wanted to kiss him. But as his eyes flicked back up from where they had momentarily strayed to his wind-chapped lips to Jack's questioning eyes, he grabbed a handful of snow and smashed it into his face, taking the opportunity to roll out from underneath him, the moment gone as he fought to catch a ragged breath.  


 

_October 20th 2012_

  
  
  
Heart beating through his chest as the buzzer blared in the background, Shitty raced forward across the ice towards where Jack was standing, arms still thrust skyward in celebration. Crashing into him, Shitty knocked them into the boards, his arms circling Jack’s waist as a swarm of hockey players descended on them. As they stood pressed against each other, their face masks clinking, Shitty couldn’t help but knock the tops of their helmets together, their foreheads practically touching in a moment just for them.  
  
“Fucking hatty, Jack, fucking hatty!” Shitty screamed, his voice hoarse from the game, his breath still coming in ragged pants as he watched a grin break out on Jack's face before he ducked his head, effectively hiding himself in the crook of Shitty’s neck as the hats came raining down from the stands around them.  
  
Sometimes Shitty couldn’t believe this dingus was his best friend; most of the time, he couldn’t believe the fucking things he could do with a hockey stick; and almost always Shitty couldn’t believe that he was just a little bit in love with him. But right now, with Jack's face hidden in the neck of Shitty’s jersey, hiding the smile on his face from the crowd and the cameras, Shitty couldn’t believe that Jack was his. His to care for, his to enjoy, and his to protect, just sometimes, from the world encroaching in.  
  
As the roar from the crowd died down and their teammates slowly disbanded back to the bench, Shitty dragged his hand over Jack's helmet, tapping it a bit to get his attention, as their eyes met, it felt like all the air was suddenly gone from the room, as Shitty desperately sucked in a breath. Their faces were separated only by the dual layers of plastic, Jack's eyes still wide with joy, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his lips bitten red as the bottom one slipped from where he was holding it between his teeth.  
  
“I mean it, Cap. Clutch as fuck, man,” he whispered as if sharing a secret before skating away, his heart hammering in his chest for an entirely different reason than it was just minute ago.  


 

_September 23rd 2012_

  
  
  
Parents weekend had been a fucking shitstorm, and between Shitty’s Dad arriving late on Saturday and almost immediately criticizing all of Shitty’s life stories before proceeding to get into a fight with his mom over her influence on him, Shitty was pretty fucking done before the weekend had even really started. Of course then they had to go and scrape past fucking Harvard in what had to be the luckiest goal of all time with the puck bouncing off not one but two of the harvard guys’ skates before going in off a frankly terrible pass for one of their fourth liners in the final seconds of the third.  
  
Of course, none of that really mattered when, halfway through stripping off his gear, he noticed that Jack was nowhere to be seen, his gear haphazardly strewn about his locker.  
  
The feeling brewing in Shitty didn’t get any better when, after quickly throwing on a sweater and making a break for the door, he spotted Bad Bob and Alicia standing just outside the locker room with no sign of Jack anywhere. Dodging the crowds, Shitty made his way towards the back entrance to the rink, guilt brewing in his gut as he fought to remember the last time he had seen Jack. In the showers maybe? Coaches debrief? On the ice, waiting to knock helmets with Johnson? All of a sudden, it was just a blur of faces, of teammates and sighs of relief that they had scraped that one by, exhaled breaths of disbelief that despite the game they had played somehow they managed to come out with the W. Yet Shitty knew as jogged along the back corridors that there was no way that was good enough for Jack. Jack who got three points but saw the C as his duty to fix everything, to win everything, to not let them down.  
  
As Shitty reached the back door to the loading dock, a shaky exhale could be heard outside, one that Shitty had heard before, filled with built-up anxiety and repressed guilt. Outside, knees curled to his chest, with his body pressed into the concrete where the stairs met the wall, was Jack, hair matted with sweat in a messed up array from fingers being raked through it, fingers that were currently clenching and unclenching around Jack's bicep as Shitty slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind him.  
  
He slid into the space beside Jack, effectively boxing him in against the wall, surrounding him with something solid, something real to focus on. As Jack’s breathing began to steady and the clenching of his fingers became less relentless, he turned his head to the side, his eyes, wet with tears, shuffling to rest his head on Shitty’s shoulder.  
  
With a tear-stained face and in sweat-soaked under armor, Jack seemed small, curled into Shitty’s side, his legs tucked up underneath him as he drowned his sniffles into Shitty’s hoodie. It was a familiar position for them, not that it was one they were in all that often, but between the incident with the Cup, once or twice during a particularly rowdy party and every time a dick bag on the other team as much as mentioned his Dad’s legend, Shitty had seen his fair share of Jack mid-panic attack. He knew to breathe eight beats in and five beats out, he knew that in his room, Jack had a packet of Jelly Beans in his drawer for these exact occasions, a playlist on an old style iPod and an abundance of fucking mindfulness activities that could go on for hours. But right now, in the shade of the loading dock, the only thing Shitty could offer him was measured breaths and a reassuring presence to remind his that this wasn’t the end.  
  
It could have been minutes or even hours later when Jack finally lifted his head, stirring Shitty from his rhythmic count of in-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, out-2-3-4-5.  
  
“Thanks,” he muttered, like a secret, tears still clinging to his eyelashes and his hand still curled around Shitty’s wrist, head tilted just so that Shitty couldn’t help but think that if he were to move forward, their lips might brush. Lost in the idea for a second, the idea of being able to kiss away the worry, to kiss away the hurt, Shitty shook his head, jolting himself out of the fantasy as he reminded himself again all the reasons he couldn’t have this as he counted to 8 and turned away.  


 

_December 18th 2012_

  
  
  
_Fucking mistletoe_ , Shitty thought as he hit yet again another sprig of it hanging in the doorway with his hockey stick. Spying Jack leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, Shitty gave it another hard knock, sending it flying out of the doorway. It was bad enough that he had to stop himself from ruining his friendship with Jack by planting one on him regularly. He did not need a fucking sprig of whatever being the reason he finally ruined a good thing.  


 

_August 3rd 2012_

  
  
  
Shitty discovered the reading room in July, when he had escaped back to Samwell for the weekend, sick of his father, sick of his grandparents’ invasive questions, sick of Cambridge. As he heard the groan of a window being opened and the sound of another body clambering out on the roof, he heaved a sigh of relief, more grateful than ever of his discovery. The reading room was somehow separate from reality, a bubble away from the rest of the world, the rest of the Haus, away from the crowds that were still leaving leaving in the wake of Kent Fucking Parson’s impromptu Cup visit.  
  
As Jack made his way across the roof towards him, Shitty held his breath so as not to startle him. In a perfect world, today would have involved just a little bit too much alcohol, Jack getting just a little bit cross faded with him and then snuggling up on the couch to watch one of those history documentaries Jack liked so much, preferably at least partially naked.  
  
What happened instead was was a proverbial shitstorm in the form of Jack ex? ex-best friend? ex something, for sure, and 34 pounds of every hockey player’s greatest hopes and dreams. The fact was, Kent Parson was possibly the biggest fuckwit on the planet right now, but as Jack settled down beside him, pressing into his side, Shitty understood why Kent did it, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to give this up either.  
  
Eventually, Jack broke the silence, his breath scattering out in a shaky exhale as he seemed to deflate against Shitty’s side.  
  
“He was my boyfriend, I suppose. It’s all a fucking haze to me anyway. But we used to talk about this a lot, late at night. About winning the Cup together, having it for our birthdays. I just-” Jack petered out, voice strained, one of his hands clenching around the hem of Shitty’s shirt as he struggled to get the words out.  
  
“It’s okay, you don't have to tell me, man. Just like, know I’m here.”  
  
“I know, just, sometimes I just don’t-” he broke off into a spiel of angry sounding French, his voice still thick with emotion as he slumped further into Shitty’s lap.  
  
They sat there for what seemed like forever, Jacks head in his lap, Shitty’s fingers combing through his hair, the last tendrils of sunlight sinking below the campus skyline before Jack spoke again.  
  
“I remember the first time we kissed. Or at least I think I do. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed away my tears in the bathroom at Jake Martin’s after some girl asked me if I was going to lift the Cup in two years.”  
  
His fingers stopped, clutching the hairs at the nap of Jack’s neck. Shitty could see it perfectly, could see them as just two kids trying to take on the world together, both of them slowly being crushed by the pressure that was mounted on top of them. He could picture the floppy long hair, and whispered secrets, and he wished he could have it. Wished he could be the one kissing away Jack’s tears instead of just carding his fingers through his hair. But at the end of the day, that's all it really was, a wish. Because now, with the knowledge of what Jack lost in those 34 days, Shitty wasn’t willing to make the same mistake.  


 

_February 7th 2013_

  
Shitty had put a lot of thought into how it would eventually happen. After all, ever since that last day of freshman year it had seemed like an inevitability that he was constantly fighting against. Would it happen at the rink, on the ice when they stayed back after practice, the cold air thick with tension between them, or against the lockers after a game the rest of the team having already left. Would it happen at a party, pressed into a corner where no one could find them, the taste of alcohol thick on their tongues. Or would it happen in those quiet moments shared between them, tucked into the corner of Jack bed, the air soft as they took the time just to breathe each other in, safe and protected in a space they built together.  
  
In the end it's a combination of everything.  
  
It was Jack having a 6 point night his cheeks flushed with exertion and delight. It was the alcohol thrumming through their veins as they climbed out the hallway window onto the roof, hands tangled and bodies bumping against each other as another giggle escaped Jack's mouth, his face relaxed as the party raged on beneath them. It was the way they crowded close together, their breath intermingling in the air between them as they soaked in the quiet comfort of each other.  
  
In the end it's Jack who starts it.  
  
Bridging the gap between them as he stretched his neck, tilting his head back and slotting their lips together. Noses bumping as a light giggle was shared between them. Teeth clinking as they smiled both smiled into the kiss.  
  
“This is alright? Yeah?” Shitty whispered, his lips still brushing against Jack before pulling back, searching for any sign of unease or indecision.  
  
“You're my best friend.” Jack stated like it made all the sense in a world, like the very reason why Shitty had been resisting for all these months was the very same reason that it made perfect sense to Jack.  
  
“I wouldn't… I wouldn’t do this--if I didn't care about you, I--I love you but not like that, but maybe like this?” Jack muttered, his cheeks flooding with pink as his fingers clenched rhythmically around where they were still intertwined with Shitty’s.  
  
Pressing their foreheads together Shitty exhaled softly, looking straight into Jack's eyes where they were swimming in doubt and anxiety while Shitty took a deep breath and counted to eight.  
  
“Yeah, we can do this.” He whispered, pressing their lips back together and bringing the hand that wasn't being clutched by Jack’s up to tangle in his hair. It wasn’t all-consuming, it wasn't perfect, but at the end of the day it filled the quiet air around them, blocking out the sounds of party narrowing the world down to just each other. It was Jack, his best friend and Shitty fucking loved him more than anything else on this earth. They could do this, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr @[jlzimmermann](%E2%80%9Djlzimmermann.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


End file.
